Broken Beyond Repair
by ThePandoricaWillOpen
Summary: Eventual Anders/Nathaniel Anders spent a year in solitary confinement and now that he is out he is traumatized. Nathaniel, his rescuer, can't help but question who will protect Anders... from himself?
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Beyond Repair**

Prologue

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><p><em>There was nowhere to go. He was trapped, cornered in a shed not far from a shallow lake. He'd tried to swim it but failed. Water wasn't his thing, never was. The only thing it was useful for was to bathe in. But he couldn't do that now, not with the Templars on his doorstep.<em>

_They'd sent mabari hounds before they came. He felt the hounds follow his scent, a skill Karl had taught him. They__sensed the smell his magic, following it to him. He could disguise himself, but not the trace of his magic._

_Now he was trapped by his own stupidity. He'd run into the poorly built shed instead of fleeing in the opposite direction. He was trapped beyond escape. His heart beat rapidly in his chest at the thought of being caught again. This was his eight-escape attempt and this time, he knew, the First Enchanter wouldn't be able to sway the Knight Commander to go easy on him. He'd run out of strikes yet the old man always went out of his way to help him but he wouldn't, Anders realized, not this time._

_There was a bang on the door. The Templars yelled, "We know you are in there!" He cowered into the corner and thought maybe he could disappear. He casted a small shielding spell and hoped for the best, perhaps they'd give up or think he'd gone out the back. The pounding continued at his door mabari hounds barked as the Templars hit the hilt of their swords against the molding wood. The wood splintered and cracked after multiple blows and Anders frantically looked for another way out. The window was low enough to fit through, he saw._

_He stood, the shield following, to inspect the window. No Templars on the other side, they were only concerned with the front door. Quickly pulling the stopper out he pushed the door, careful not to let it make a sound. The Templars continued to shout, too distracted to notice him running away from the shabby shed. When he heard the splinter of wood and shouts he knew they'd gotten in and discovered he was gone. But even then he knew his chances of getting away were low so he threw a fireball at the shed for good measure. They would get out safely; they'd probably felt him use his magic. And if they didn't... well, a few less Templars in the world couldn't hurt. He frowned at the thought, split between the thought of one less Templar in the world and being a murderer._

_He was miles, or he hoped he was, away from the Templars before he finally stopped running. Out of breathe and exhausted, he lay down on the grass and gazed at the oncoming sunlight. It was beautiful. Green, orange, blue and reds mixed in perfect harmony in the sky. The combination circled around the bright orb that was rising from the east. He'd never seen something this beautiful first hand. In the Tower the only sunset's he got to see where pictures in books that were centuries old. He smiled as he realized that he was now free to enjoy many more sunrises like this. The sun, shinning as bright as his future, peeked as Anders stood._

_Once on his feet, he headed northeast to Amaranthine. He had to get away from this, from the Templars and from his old life. He was out of the tower, away from the confines that held him there, away from barriers and lakes and hypocrites. He was free, for now at least. And he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way..._

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>: I am alone

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><p>They'd caught up with him as he staggered out - or, more accurately, was pushed out- of Gnawed noble tavern in the southern part of Denerim's market district. The beer had been a bit too strong for the former sheltered mage and he'd drunk more than he could pay for. He was asked to leave but apparently he wasn't moving fast enough and had been thrown out, ironically, to land at the feet of the Templar's who'd been following his tracks. Too drunk to fight or care, Anders let them pull him to his feet and take him into custody. They 'commandeered' a wagon from a local farmer and threw Anders into the sturdy, cheese smelling wagon. He didn't complain; he was far too drunk to do so and ended up passing out. By the time they made their way around the Brecilian Forest, through the town of Lothering and up the Imperial Highway, Anders had passed out, not from drunkenness, but from malnutrition. The only thing keeping him alive was his healing magic.<p>

When they arrived at the Circle of Magi and were waiting for the ferryman to get permission for them to cross Lake Calenhad, Anders collapsed. But instead of getting him aid, the Templars dragged him into the small ferry that carried them to the centre of the lake where the Tower stood and pretended he was asleep. It was only when he was being taken down to the lower regions of the Tower that one apprentice voiced his concerns to the First Enchanter who immediately went to check on the mage. He used his healing magic, although not as strong as Anders' own magic, to heal him and gave him a lyrium potion to keep him alive until he could eat. By the end of the week, Anders was back to being his usual self - a carefree, humorous arse whom everyone loved.

Anders woke, as he did every morning, to the sound of metal boots being introduced to his body. His eyes snapped open and he turned on his back only to be met with a punch in the face. His assailant was the same person as always: a big, beefy, angry Templar. He took the punches, the kicks and even the spit that followed without complaint because if he didn't they would just move on to the next innocent mage.

At least he had a reason for being in this hole at the very bottom of the tower. At least he had deserved what was coming to him, the others hadn't. He'd run away, escaped the Templar's hold for the eight or ninth time, he was too weak to remember which, while the others were punished for accidentally casting the wrong spell or even looking at one of their 'guards' the wrong way. The other mages couldn't heal themselves like he could, or they could but were too scared to do it. Even in his weakened state Anders managed to heal his broken ribs and internal bleeding. One good thing about the Templars beating up on him was that the wards they'd put in his 'cage' were lifted while the door was open. The tiny little door that even the Templars had to crouch to pass through, the door that leads to his freedom. He reached for it; his hand shook as he traced the intricate markings the door possessed that seemed so beautiful. _Beautiful but deceiving_, he thought, _they taunt me with every swirl and twist. _He concentrated on the markings, touched them, traced them on the floor with his finger and memorized them. He fell asleep to them, woke up to them; ate, prayed and talked to them. They were his everything by the end of his second week in solitary.

By the second month, he was having interesting conversations with the intricate markings. He told them tales; sung them old songs he remembered from the Anderfels; spoke to them in his native language. They didn't talk back, or maybe they did, he couldn't tell anymore. They listened to him, all his idiosyncrasies and ideals. They didn't judge him, didn't reprimand him, and didn't hate him for them. They accepted, loved and embraced what he had to say. He felt at home for the first time in a long time. Anders laughed at himself. _I'm at home being alone in a room with only markings to talk to._

Month three brought him all sorts of strange conversations with the markings on the wall that made him think, somewhere deep down, that the solitude was driving him mad. _How is being such a cold, harsh wall been for you_, he'd asked the wall. _How can someone so beautiful_, he'd say as he fingered the swirls and twists of the markings, _be so dangerous. _Anders, out of sheer lack of company, would flirt, joke and laugh with the only thing he had with him- the four walls and the door that kept him in solitude.

It was almost four months before he was let out to bathe and to allow the Templars to clean his cage. He cried out for the markings, feeling alone without them. The Templars laughed and punched him. They taunted him as he bathed, pushed him into the wall, changed the temperature of the water and burned him. He took it all because he knew at the end he would go back to his old friends, the markings. When he didn't complain or make a noise, they left him alone, throwing him back into his home harshly.

Month five was harsh. Satinalia was in full swing by the time his fifth month, Umbralis, was upon Ferelden. He'd been captured in the month of Solis, right before Funalis, and now it was the holiday season and the Templars wanted to give him his present. They came into his cell, one at a time, with a gleam in their eyes. Anders shut himself down, concentrated on only his heartbeat as he heard the bulky armor of his abusers being slowly removed. He didn't complain, didn't whimper or cry as they each, ten if he wasn't mistaken, took their turns on him. They pounded into him mercilessly and asked him how he liked his early present. When they were gone, he returned to speaking with his old friend Mr. Door and his mistresses, the walls.

By month six, he'd grown tired of talking to himself. The markings said nothing, not even his imagination could make him think otherwise. He sat in the corner of his cell, legs drawn up to his chest, and wept. The pains in his body reflected both the physical and emotional pain he was suffering. He was alone, utterly alone, in this pit hole in the earth that no one, but those who were lucky enough to be jailed here, knew about. He wanted to be free of the markings that now returned to being tauntingly beautiful and burned his hand as he reached to touch them. He wanted to get out, throw a fireball at the Templars and flee. He didn't care where he'd go, or that his body was probably unfit for running, he'd escape this hellhole and never look back. He planned it all, his escape and his new home. He visualized it in his mind - the trees that would hide him from the Templars, the rain that would disguise his smell from the mabari and the enchantment that would hide his magic. He had only to find that enchantment. He pictured the breeze that would dry him as he stepped into a field; grass biting at his toes as he ran through it; the sun that would shine as he emerged from the field and into a peak that overlooked a village. A village, filled with wonderful, accepting people who would take him in without question and wouldn't let go of him; the village that would be his home, his salvation, his everything.

In Verimensis, his seventh month in solitude, he began to picture himself home. His home back in the Anderfels, back in the steep snow covered mountains. He yearned to be around his own people, his own race, to not be considered just another kid with powers. He wanted to speak his own language even if the only words he remembered where _Hilf mir, Mama _and _Lassen Sie nicht mich, Papa. _He longed to go back to the Anderfels to find his family, to hug his mother, to cry as she clutched him to her bosom and to throw a small fireball at his father for giving him over to the Templar order when his magic manifested. All he wanted was someone to love, to care and want him and in the Anderfels he would at least get a chance at getting it.

Halfway through the eighth month his names day hit. Pluitanis, his birth month, usually gave him such joy but not this time. Or at least it seemed that way until a certain kind-hearted Templar allowed another kind-hearted mage into his 'cell'. Anders had been overjoyed as he saw Karl, his oldest and dearest friend, enter the little shithole he'd called home. And not to mention he'd been allowed to bring him some food! Anders didn't go for the food however. He waited until the door was closed and the innocent little Templar was out of earshot before bringing his lips to Karl's and sighing happily. Karl seemed confused at first, their relationship had been over months ago, but eventually returned the kiss. Anders tried not to cry out in joy as Karl, gingerly, put his hands on Anders' neck and pulled him closer. They kissed until Anders felt like he was going to burst and begun to tug at Karl's clothes. Anders pouted as Karl pulled back to remove his clothing as they continued their ministrations. Anders slipped on to his lap, thighs tight around Karl's waist, and their lips didn't part even as the other man took him to ecstasy. At the end, as the Templar came back to escort his lover out, Anders had one more thing to keep fighting for. Karl.

Two months later, the markings on the door and pet names for the walls forgotten, Anders was startled awake, not by metal boots but by a raspy, warm, wet feeling on his hand. His eyes snapped open and was met by two green eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows and reached out to touch the owner of the warm, wet thing that'd been scraping away at his hand. A large tabby, almost orange in colour, stared at him. Gingerly, he reached out to rub its head and, smiling to himself, he felt the tabby begin to purr. He chuckled lightly as the cat crept closer and lay on his lap. Finally, he had a friend. _Sir Pounce-A-Lot_, Anders murmured to the furry little creature_, that is your name._

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><p>Thanks to OhSlashy for beta'ing this, your awesome :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **_Broken Beyond Repair_

_Chapter 2_

_**Beta:** OhSlashy_

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>It ends here...<p>It was a year before he finally got out of the cell, his hands raised for a fight, eyes closed as the light streaked in. He'd made a fuss about his cat. He had to take the cat with him, he told his movers, but it was nowhere to be found. He was moved to another cell, this time one that was not sealed. It was a regular jail cell, the bars themselves were normal, the walls, however held the magic stealing enchantments. Anders frowned. If he leaned against the walls, his back would get scorched and his magic would drain from him. He stood until he could no longer stand and even them, he crouched. His magic, his very soul, would not be taken away by mere walls. The food was better; he had to concede to that, as was the treatment he received from the Templars. These Templars didn't volunteer like the ones back in solitary confinement, they were put on guard in rounds. Sometimes, when certain Templars like Cullen, they were let out to stretched their legs and talk to one another. Sometimes, if Anders was nice enough, he would be allowed to heal the other mages. Cullen was nice; he was decent, unlike the others; Cullen had a soul, he had a heart.<p>

On some nights, when the guards were sleeping or away, Templars would sneak into the cells and 'have fun' with the jailed mages. Anders was one of their favourites; he made it so they would come to him and not the ten year old next to him or the terrified elf opposite of him. He called them names, threatened and taunted them until they would turn to him, a gleam in their eyes, and take their prize. He never let anyone else be beaten or raped. He took it all; it was his duty to protect them. They didn't deserve to be jailed, not like he did and so he took the punishment tenfold.

On some nights, after the Templars would leave, he would lie in his cell, tears falling down his cheeks and think about the outside world. He would picture his future, sun shining, and fresh smelling. He would picture everything bright and happy, trying to forget this nightmarish and dark place where he was held. He would picture someone coming to his rescue, his very own knight in shining armour, bursting through the dungeon door and taking him away from this place. It didn't even have to be a knight in shining armour, it could be a damned cat for all he cared, he just wanted to be free. Free of this torment, this mistreatment, and this torture. Free to be who he was, who he wanted to be, free to be simply human.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Templars scattered as the Warden Commander walked down the spiral staircase to the dungeons on a surprise inspection of the Tower. Everything so far had been great. Mages were happy, or so they appeared to be, learned and well fed. He'd been guided into the illustrious halls, the mold smelling grand library and the living quarters. Everything seemed fine, a few problems here and there but nothing to be concerned about.<p>

But as he requested a tour of the lower region of the Tower, he was denied. His Templar guide told him that no one was allowed down there, not without Knight Commander Greagoir's authorization; and he was currently out. Nikolai had smiled at the Templar before rushing past him, his Wardens following him, and into the dungeons.

_Must be a good reason to keep me out, _he thought as he walked down the spiral steps to the dungeons. He had to stop and hold in his breath as he approached the door to the cells. The Templars stood at attention, their helmets masking their surprise.

"Open it," Nikolai ordered. "Now!"

They opened the door; a foul smell intensified. _Urine, _Nikolai concluded. _Urine and terror mixed with oppression and abuse. _He should've come sooner; he shouldn't have put this on the back burner. He only had himself to blame if anyone inside the room died.

The dungeon was large, larger than the Guard in the Keep. The hall had at least twenty small cells on each side. Nikolai thought he would find one, perhaps two, mages locked up; but he was surprised to find all the cells occupied with Mages. Every cell, every single one of the 6 feet by 6 feet cells, were occupied by dying mages. They shrank away into the corners as they passed.

Nikolai looked at each of them, his eyes tearing up upon seeing a young girl chained to the wall. He tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder and pointed to the girl. He saw Nathaniel falter before rushing to the girl's side and gently removing the chains from her. He lowered her to the ground gently. The girl cried softly rubbing her wrist. Nathaniel took her in his arms and cradled her. She had to at least 7 years old. _What could a seven year old have done?_

Nikolai continued to take in the sadistic scene. Never, not even during the blight, had he seen such dehumanization. What repulsed him the most was the Templars, those self-righteous bastards who hid behind the Chant of Light. Up to now the Templars were left alone to do as they wished with the mages. But now, after this, it was clear they couldn't be trusted. Cruelty, especially to innocent mages, was not tolerated in Ferelden, not anymore. Things were about to change; Nikolai would make sure this never happened again.

He turned at the end of the hall. _At least two cells are empty_, he thought before hearing a faint moan. The warrior turned around, weapon in hand. Nathaniel came to his side, lantern in hand.

"Commander?"

"Shine the light here," Nikolai pointed to the left. "I think I heard something."

Taking his daggers out just in case, Nathaniel opened the cell door and shone the light inside. He was about to turn around when he saw blood. Whistling for more light, Nikolai entered the cell. _By the Maker!_

A mage, bloodied and naked, lay on the floor. Every part of his body was either bruised or cut. Dark purple marks on his torso indicated broken ribs, his arm looked broken, and fingers swollen. His legs were bloodied but seemed unharmed. He was very skinny and pale from being in the dungeon.

"It was a wonder how he managed to stay alive," He heard Nathaniel say as he crouched down to the mage checking for a pulse. The mage flinched and opened his eyes. He looked at Nathaniel then at Nikolai and whimpered.

"Come to finish me off, have you?" He yelled hoarsely, getting up. "It won't work! I won't give in!"

"What are you-" Nathaniel said before the mage fell back on the floor. "Commander!"

"What?" Nikolai said putting his arm around the mages waist. "What's wrong?"

"Look," Nathaniel turned his head to the Mages back.

Nikolai looked. Blood trickled down his back and mixed with blood coming from between his legs. Nikolai looked at Nathaniel. Nathaniel nodded. They pulled him out of the cell and found him a blanket to cover him up. Guards helped them bring the poor mage up the stairs and into the library where the injured were being treated.

As they set him down on a cot, pulled Nathaniel aside.

"He was raped," Nathaniel said before the words could even form in Nikolai's mind. "Some bastard Templar raped him!"

"Get me every single Templar that has ever set foot down there," Nikolai ordered through clenched teeth. "Take a few soldiers, they might get angry."

"Commander." Nathaniel bowed and turned. "Kean, Moss, with me."

"Oh and Nathaniel," Nikolai called out.

"Yes?"

"Try not to bloody your armour too much." Nikolai advised. Nathaniel nodded; a small smile indicated he understood Nikolai's advice.

"I'll try not to," Nathaniel replied; heading for the door.

Enraged at the cruelty the Templars could inflict on their charges, Nikolai sent a dispatcher to the king immediately. Alistair had to know first-hand what he'd found. It would take a few days but Nikolai was willing to wait. The longer he remained in the tower, the longer the Templars stayed away from the mages.

He found himself by the blond mage's cot. The healers did what they could, fixed the broken bones and cuts. The bleeding hadn't stopped but he was out of danger. But he hadn't woken up, not even stirred. Nikolai asked the healer why he hadn't woken up yet. The healer looked at the mage and sighed.

"_You can't heal someone who doesn't have the will to live anymore."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **_Broken Beyond Repair_

_Chapter 3_

_**Beta:** OhSlashy_

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><p>"I found him!" Nathaniel exclaimed coming into Nikolai's room. "I found the blighted Templar who raped him."<p>

"Take me to him, now!" Nikolai said taking his blade along. "Where is he?"

"In the barracks with the other Templars. I thought you might want to surprise the bastard."

"Oh, Nate. You know me too well." Nikolai smiled.

The tower with all its complicated twists and turns had turned quiet and dark. First Enchanter Irving had placed a lock down on his mages after hearing about the dungeon. He had ordered the Templars take the top most floors while all the mages slept on the floor he occupied. He also began working with Nikolai to ensure the Templars threatened no mage. He placed wards around all the mages ' rooms'; wards that only his most trusted mages could dissipate. Nikolai trusted the enchanter, the Knight-Commander not so much.

As they went up the stairs, the First enchanter and a few of his senior enchanters followed them. Nikolai and Nathaniel smiled to themselves. _Finally going to stand up for yourselves. Good._

They arrived at the barracks within minutes. Nikolai, anger pent up, used his steel boot to break open the door. Inside Templars stirred in their beds. Many looks scared. _They should be. _Irving and his enchanters entered the room, blocking the entrance.

"Everyone up, now!" Nathaniel yelled his voice booming off the walls and around enclosed space. "I don't care if your dressed or not, get up. Now!"

Everyone in the room stood up and lined up. Nikolai saw a few trembling and some even began to cry._ Not so big and mighty now, are you?_

"I'm going to ask once," Nikolai yelled, taking out his sword and petting it lightly. "Just once. Who dared to put their grubby little hands on the mage lying on a cot downstairs dying?"

The Templars looked at each other, horror flashing in their eyes. They looked at each other before their eyes glazed over a Templar still lying in his bed. Nikolai looked at Nathaniel.

"Get up Templar!" Nathaniel yelled going over to the Templar and pulling him to his feet. "I said get up!"

The Templar hauled himself up and straightened his clothes, his eyes on the wall. Nathaniel pushed him into formation with the rest of his comrades before standing in front of him, a furious look on his face.

"Name?" Nathaniel asked him. The Templar coughed but didn't answer. "Name!"

"I heard you," The Templar replied. "I don't take orders from king killers or son's of traitors."

Nathaniel smiled, turning to Nikolai who quirked his eyebrow. He turned back to the Templar and smiled. Before the Templar could continue, Nathaniel punched him hard in the stomach. He fell to the ground, gasping.

"I want all the Templars in this tower in the main hall," Nikolai told Nathaniel. "Have the room cleared of furniture and have all these things-" he looked at the Templars in disgust. "Taken to the hall for a more throughout interrogation. I want to have talk with all of them."

Nathaniel nodded and left the room.

"Irving," Nikolai called out. "I need you to trust me. I need your mages in the room as well"

"I trust you with my life as well as those of my mages," Irving told him. "I shall get my mages ready, those injured as well."

_That's comforting, _Nikolai thought. _I sure wouldn't trust myself. _Irving gave him a knowing look before smiling and patting his arm reassuringly. He would do this; Nikolai would make things better for these mages. Ferelden would serve as an example for the rest of Thedas. No mage should be mistreated.

"Thank you." He clasped the old man's hand. "Go to sleep, you need it."

"Not more that you," Irving laughed. "I need to speak to you before the king arrives."

Nikolai nodded and patted the man's shoulder. "We shall speak soon."

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Up to now, the Knight Commander had remained silent about the dungeon. Not even Nikolai could convince the Templar to speak. Oh, and he tried. From instigating fights to even blackening the Commander's name, Nikolai had tried everything but torture. The Commander simply wouldn't talk until King Alistair arrived. When the King arrived, red faced with anger, he, Nikolai, First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir locked themselves in the study hall.<p>

"What the bloody hell were those mages doing down there?" The king yelled as he paced. "They could've died, for Maker sakes!"

"They were under guard," Greagoir simply said. "They were down there for a reason."

"And what reasons were those?" Nikolai asked. "Speaking out of turn? Eating too much?"

"We suspected them of using blood magic to influence the mind of one of my Templars." Greagoir turned to Irving to confirm but Irving shook his head.

"Alistair," Irving said calmly. "The Templars have always abused their powers. Both of you have seen this before and have done nothing about it."

"Irving-"

"No!" Alistair screamed at Greagoir. "You shut up and … quiet!"

Nikolai smiled. The same old Alistair, he couldn't even command a dog. He looked at Irving, the mage who'd suffered more than any other in the tower. Dammed with the knowledge of the Templars deeds and powerless to help his brethren. The enchanter had grown older since they'd last talked. His beard and hair was greyer and more wrinkles ordinated his calm face. When Irving placed his hands neatly on the table, Nikolai could see a faint tremble. He wasn't going to last long and he probably knew that; which was why he was telling them all the dirty little deeds the Templars did under Greagoir.

Alistair sat down at hearing the heartless treatment the mages suffered day after day, week after week, with no end in sight. He felt sympathy swell up in him; he knew how it felt to be unwanted. Albeit he had a handful of people who cared for him, these mages had no one, no one but Irving who was powerless to stop it.

"So you see, Alistair," Irving said. "The mages there were not dangerous at all. All it takes for Greagoir to condemn anyone of Blood Magic is a simple dream."

"I see," Alistair said. "Greagoir, is there anything you wish to add?" The armoured Templar stood at attention in the back of the room. He looked calm enough, if his fist weren't clenched. His piercing brown eyes were narrowed at Irving before he took a step forward and spoke.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for the good of Ferelden, for the good of all! The mages were there for a reason; they were given a chance to confess. When they didn't, my Templars did what they had to."

"Can I say something?" Nikolai looked to Alistair.

"Of course," Alistair said.

Nikolai looked at Nathaniel and nodded. Nathaniel bowed and left the room. "I've seen many things, many despicable things. We both have, Alistair. But as I went down to the dungeons, I was shocked to see mages bound and bloody. The blood literally covered the rotting walls."

Nathaniel entered the room carrying one of the mages. Nikolai helped carry the weak mage and they set him on a chair facing Alistair. Irving stood up, apparently recognizing the blond headed mage.

"Never," Nikolai continued. "Never have I seen such monstrosities at the hands of humans. This mage had 3 broken ribs, a broken arm, and cuts along his torso, arms and legs- " Nikolai stopped as the mage stirred. He bent down to check on the poor man, touching his forehead.

"And his lung was collapsing," Nathaniel finished. "Three healers were used and still he is bleeding. He is weak and disoriented as well as malnourished and dehydrated. We can't feed him because he has a fever and he will most likely just throw it up anyways."

"Nate-" Nikolai called out worried. "Get the Healers in here, now!"

Nathaniel rushed from the room, yelling for them on the way. Irving crouched by the mage, touching his face lightly. The look on the Enchanters face spoke wonders. For a moment, Nikolai thought he saw Irving shed a tear before it was wiped off.

"I can heal him, my magic is much more powerful than the apprentices," Irving told Nikolai. The Warden Commander stepped aside and let him work.

He chanted a few words before his hands glowed a bright blue. The blue light covered the mage completely before Irving staggered back in surprise. He looked to Greagoir in horror. "He could've died!"

"Irving this is no time-"

"He could have died!" Irving repeated. "Anders is the most capable healer we have and you would have let him die?"

"He escaped-"

"He always returns!" Irving yelled shaking his staff at the Templar. "I pity you and your ignorance."

"Irving-"

"I need him lying down," Irving turned to Nikolai and Alistair, who were staring at him in shock. Never, not even in the face of abomination, had the Enchanter lost his temper. This mage had to be important. They went to his side just as Nathaniel returned with the healers. Together, they carried him to Irving's office and into the Enchanter's bed.

Nikolai, Nathaniel and Alistair waited outside as the healers, and Irving, continued their healing. After a few minutes, Irving appeared at the door, his brow furrowed and sweaty.

"He is better now," He told them. "Still weak but he is no longer bleeding, his fever is down and everything else is healed."

"Is he awake?" Alistair asked. "Can we speak to him?"

"Anders is asleep."

"Anders? Is that his name?" Nathaniel asked Irving. "He wouldn't tell us his name earlier."

"His name is Anders," Irving told them. "He is one of the more… rebellious mages we have. Shall I explain in my office?" He motioned with his hand to his desk. Nikolai and Alistair nodded, Nathaniel turned to Irving.

"May I see him?" He asked him. "I don't feel right leaving him alone."

"Of course, child." Irving told him sitting down. "There are towels on the dresser. Wet them and press them to his forehead if you think he needs it."

"Yes, Enchanter." Nathaniel nodded and then turned to bow to Nikolai and Alistair. "Commander, King."

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Nathaniel closed the door behind him, silently. The mage, Anders, was on a large bed, sleeping. He approached the bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. All seemed well. Touching Anders' forehead, he turned to get the towels from the dresser. His forehead was burning up.<em> I thought the fever was gone.<em>

He dipped the towel into the cold water and squeezed the excess water out. He returned to the bed only to find it empty. Confused, he looked around the room. Everything seemed fine. He got down on his knees and looked under the bed, nothing. He searched the dresser, nothing. The bathroom was empty too. It wasn't until he heard a whimper that he located the mage.

Anders was hiding in the corner by a large chest, his blond hair barely visible from Nathaniel's spot. Slowly, Nathaniel made his way to the mage. Standing in front of him, he saw tears falling from behind close eyes. Immediately, he bent down to the weeping mage. Reaching forward, Nathaniel touched Anders' pale arm. Anders shook it off and pushed himself against the wall, his hands erupting in flames.

"Anders…" Nathaniel whispered eyeing the flames. "Your safe. I'm Nathaniel, I'm a Grey Warden."

Anders looked up, his brown eyes widening. "Yo-you're a w-warden?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I'm here to protect you."

Anders scoffed. His hands burnt out, the flames disappearing as fast as they had appeared. "You should've come 24 weeks ago. I don't need your protecting now!"

"24 Weeks?" Nathaniel asked appalled. "You've been in there for 24 weeks?"

"In that dungeon, yes." Anders said wiping the tears away. "Ten weeks in the other and five in the one before."

"Wait," Nathaniel said slowly, touching the back of his neck in confusion. "What others?"

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Nathaniel burst through the door of the study, Anders trailing weakly behind him. Nikolai, Alistair and the Enchanter turned to him, a look of annoyance in their faces. Helping the mage to a chair, Nathaniel nodded to Nikolai. Nikolai nodded slowly, not understanding.<p>

"Tell them," He cooed at the mage softly. Anders looked at Nathaniel, his eyes widening at the softness of his voice. "It's alright, tell them."

"I- there are other dungeons, apart from the one where I was found in." He looked to Irving. "First Enchanter, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, child?" The Enchanter asked standing. "For escaping this maker forsaken tower? For being caught? For being stupid enough to go to Lyle's instead of the ship I bought you passage for?"

"I- Yes." Anders looked down at his lap, his hands threaded together. "I shouldn't have gone to Lyle's but I hadn't seen him in so long, I had to-"

"Child, you have nothing to explain to me."

"I failed you," Anders told him looking up. "I failed you all for a shag with my boyfriend."

The enchanter tusked and pulled Anders to him in an embrace. Anders buried his face into Irving's robes, clinging to him for dear life and cried. Nathaniel looked away, as did Nikolai and Alistair, giving them their space. Nikolai looked to Nathaniel, calling him wordlessly.

"We need to find these other dungeons." Alistair declared. "And quick. Nathaniel get your most trusted men and 'interrogate' the Templars believed to be the most brutal."

"Well, well." Nikolai said astounded. "Never thought I'd hear you condone torture."

"Did you hear that?" Alistair asked with a wink. "It sounded like someone talking…"

Nathaniel shook his head, smiling at his shoes.

Before leaving he thought he heard Nikolai and Alistair share more than business friendly words, but dismissed the thought. He had work to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Long upload to make up for all the time it took me to upload chapter 2. Bad news... its going to take me a while to do the next chapter. I am in the process of moving apartments so i'm going to be pretty busy. Good news... I have the next chapter laid out in my head so its only the matter of time that's stopping me from writing. <strong>

**Review? I would love some comments!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **_Broken Beyond Repair_

_Chapter 4_

_**Beta:** OhSlashy_

* * *

><p>Sometimes Nathaniel hated his role in the Wardens but other times, like now, he loved it. Finding the truth and helping innocents, that's what this job was about. Protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. Mages fell under that category now more than ever, with the Templar's evil schemes 'accidentally' leaked to the general population, everyone would understand just how mistreated and misunderstood these people were. Sure, having powers made them dangerous, but so did wielding a sword or owning anything sharp. Just because they had their weapons within them, in the palm of their hands and the spirit of their minds, didn't mean they had to be separated and abused. And that was exactly what Anders was telling Nathaniel, most animatedly.<p>

Nathaniel liked listening to the mage's sombre voice as he explained everything that was wrong with the Circle of Magi and the 'capture and enslavement' of his kind, as Anders put it. Another part of Nathaniel's job, one which he was finding difficult, was locating those who committed a crime against innocents he was sworn to protect. Talking to Anders, was one way of finding out who were his assailants, But the mage was tight lipped and would change the subject quickly. Not that Nathaniel minded. Having to talk about being chained, beaten and raped was not something he wanted to talk about. And Anders seemed to like having someone to talk to, someone who would listen and not judge even if he did flinch a couple of times as Nathaniel moved to sit more comfortably.

Before coming to check on Anders, Nathaniel 'interviewed' the Templars who were accused of the heinous crime, only to be stonewalled. Talking to the mage seemed like a better deal, not that he didn't leave some of his more unruly wardens working on it. If the Templar's were to appear with a few cuts and bruises tomorrow... well, the Tower was a big place and accidents happened.

He took to noticing the way Anders spoke, so passionately and philosophically. He had his thoughts planned out, his plans mapped out and he knew what the future for mages should look like. Nathaniel smiled as he explained what the future held for his people, the free and wondrous world in which everyone would live together, in harmony, regardless of their gender, race or magical ability. If only more people were like Anders, he thought to himself, then maybe the future wouldn't look so bleak.

"What about Templars?" Nathaniel asked. "Where will they be in this new future of yours?"

"The Templars would do their duty," he replied looking at his hands instead of Nathaniel. "They would do their part as Andraste instructed, not this warped sense of protection. I don't want to talk about them."

"Okay, we won't," Nathaniel stood up from his seat and reached over to Anders' forehead to check his temperature. He put the back of his hand on the mage who pulled away, a confused look on his face. "I'm checking your temperature, relax."

The mage furrowed his brow but didn't pull back when Nathaniel's hand made contact with his forehead. Satisfied, if a bit worried, Nathaniel pulled away and sat back down. He looked at the mage once more, his eyes assessing his healing progress. The gashes on his face were healed by magic, as were his other wounds. The only signs of abuse were a few scars scattered about his body, mostly on his arms and chest, and the tightness at which Anders held his body in the presence of others. Even now as they spoke Anders held his body as far away as he could on the bed from Nathaniel.

He continued talking with Anders, trying to keep the conversation away from unpleasant topics as much as he could, until First Enchanter Irving came in to check on him. The elder mage walked in, smiling as he saw them having a lively conversation. They were talking about the best way to cook mash potatoes and beans but that's not the point. Their conversation ceased when the old man entered and made his way to Anders' side.

Nathaniel stood from his seat and made to leave the room but Anders, practically jumping out of bed, asked him to stay. He looked to the First Enchanter to see if he minded, he didn't although he suppressed a smile, so Nathaniel returned to his seat. After a few minutes of running his hands up and down the mage's stomach, back and thighs with healing magic, the First Enchanter sighed.

"You have some muscle damage that magic cannot fix," the mage began. "But other than that your dehydration, malnutrition and wounds are all healed. You've got to eat more, however, if you want your mana to return and your magic to be yours to control."

"How extensive is the muscle damage?" Nathaniel asked. "I've had minor damage before and all it took was a pack of ice and a few weeks of rest."

"Mostly the same thing," Irving replied. "I won't risk using an ice spell, even a minor one, due to Anders' low immune system. He could go into shock or it could make it worse. The only thing we can do now is fatten him up, keep him rested and entertained."

"Um, hello?" Anders said, raising his hand, making the two men turn to him. "Do I not get a say in this? I'm okay with trying the ice-"

"No," Nathaniel said with a stern look. He turned to the First Enchanter, "Thank you, serah. I shall keep Anders fed, rested and entertained, I promise you."

"I don't need a baby sitter," Anders huffed. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much!"

"I don't doubt that, mage," Nathaniel said with an uncharacteristic smile. "But it wouldn't hurt to have a friend to talk after everything that's happened."

* * *

><p><strong>A bit short, sorry. Working on Chapter 5 and 6 now!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

_**Title: **Broken Beyond Repair  
><em>

_**Chapter:** 5_

**_Beta:_**_ None. All mistakes are my own._

* * *

><p>Nathaniel remained in Anders' room for the night. He stayed until the mage fell asleep and was about to leave when soft whimpering stopped him. He turned back to the sleeping mage and saw him curl up in a ball and shake. Instinctively, Nathaniel went to the bed and crawled in. he remembered his sister always made him feel better by climbing into the bed with him.<p>

He had removed his armour an hour ago because he saw Anders fidget every time his blades shone with the candlelight. And so, wearing his jerkin and simple pants, he slipped in between the thick covers and tried to comfort Anders.

It felt weird and slightly wrong to be getting into bed with another man who had, until recently, been abused and neglected but all that mattered now was his well being and if he needed a bed buddy then Nathaniel would be there for him.

He felt oddly at ease with the intelligent and witty mage, almost comfortable in a way that he hadn't felt in such a long time. The real kicker, however, was that he'd barely known the man a days. Sure, he'd spent most of the days taking care of him and making sure his assailants paid for the crimes but even that short time, Nathaniel could see Anders was special. He wanted to know more about the man.

Eventually, he fell asleep to the sound of Anders' breathing. Some time over the course of the night, Anders had managed to snuggle up close to Nathaniel. His arm was wrapped around the rogues waist in a very tight grip. It was nearly morning when Nathaniel woke up and tried to get up only to be pulled back by a sleeping Anders. Not wanting to wake the mage, Nathaniel remained and sighed.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His arm was around the mage as well, his hand on the small of the man's lower back. It was an intimate place, one where only a lover should place their hands on, and Nathaniel felt dirty for having his hand there.

A loud knock on the door startled the mage in his sleep enough to allow Nathaniel to slip away silently from the bed. He went to the door, opening it without thinking and came face to face with Nikolai.

The commander took in Nathaniel's wrinkled clothing and his bed head with a nod of his head. Nods that usually meant you were about to be spoken to like a five year old for doing something stupid. Even though the commander was younger than Nathaniel, there was a certain presence he maintained that made him as scary as a high dragon.

"I – he fell asleep," Nathaniel started to explain. Nikolai raised a hand to stop him, taking a step back. Nathaniel understood and, with a final glance at the mage, took a step out of the room and prepared for an angry commander.

* * *

><p>Anders knew he was dreaming; he could see the Fade close around him and beckon him further in. his mind took over, replaying the nights events over those of the last few weeks. He heard Nathaniel's deep voice say, "... you sure could use a friend."<p>

But it didn't matter. He was safe and sound with Nathaniel and this dream was ... safe as long as Nathaniel was in it. Nathaniel would protect him, no matter what.

_Anders found that couldn't dispute that or the smile that threaten to overpower his lips. He'd never had a friend before, or at least not a friend who he hadn't slept with before. Even now, as he held Nathaniel's eyes, he felt an unknown emotion develop in his chest. An emotion he'd never known he could feel: admiration. _

_Sure, he'd admired a few people, First Enchanter Irving one of them, but real admiration, real respect, was not something Anders dealt with. But Nathaniel had saved him from dying, from that horrid cage and from those nasty Templars. Nathaniel had saved his life and, so far at least, hadn't asked for anything in return._

_"I'll leave you too it, then," First Enchanter Irving said as he left the room with a smile on his face. Anders and Nathaniel kept eye contact until the door closed behind the Enchanter and the moment was broken._

_"I don't need a babysitter," Anders insisted. "I'm perfectly fine being alone." But even as he said it, the words rang false. He could barely sit up on the bed, let alone walk around the room to do various things. He probably couldn't even get up to use the loo without needing help. Stupid Templars, he thought, they do love to get carried away._

_"You might be perfectly fine alone but I don't like being around so many Templars," Nathaniel said sitting down. "And I would appreciate you being here for me, mage."_

_Anders bit his lower lip to hold in a smile. The way the rogue said _mage_ made his heart skip a beat. Must be the after-effects of the healing magic, he told him trying not to blush like a schoolgirl._

_"I'm sure the big bad Templars don't like being out-handsome-d by a rogue," Anders said before he could stop himself._

_He always reverted to flirting whenever he was nervous and having a very handsome, but deadly Warden looking at him with unblinking eyes almost had him peeing his pants. No matter how nice Nathaniel was being, Anders knew what could happen should he be angered. He would be beaten and, Maker knows, no one will come to his rescue this time._

_"I'm sure they are very threatened," Nathaniel replied lightly. "But not by _my_ ugly mug."_

_The way Nathaniel's eyes fleeted away made Anders think he was... oh! Anders smiled and looked away, a light blush settling on his freckled cheeks. A Grey Warden, no, Nathaniel had just called him handsome. As per his nervous habit, Anders ran his hands through his long dirty blonde hair. His fingers caught a few times, the dirt and grim having settled along his scalp._

_"We should take a bath," Nathaniel told him, cheeks pink and eyes looking everywhere but Anders. "I mean – I should – you should... clean your bea-blond hair."_

_Anders smiled at the rogue. Had he almost said beautiful blond hair? No, it must be his imagination. Surely, Nathaniel wasn't complimenting his hair._

_"I think I will," Anders replied with a wide grin. The rogue's blush intensified and he stood to help Anders get up from the bed. _

_With strong effort, they managed to get him, shakily, on his feet. He wobbled a bit, his ribs pulsing with pain that made him clench his teeth, but eventually he managed to stand on his own. Nathaniel let go, rather hurriedly, and stepped back._

_The robe that Anders was wearing in bed was open in the front revealing his scarred chest. Long cuts long since healed ran in different directions all along his pale chest. Nathaniel stood in front of him, his eyes searching Anders'. When the rogue reached out and touched his chest, Anders felt his breath leaving him._

_Gently, Nathaniel followed one of the scars that began along his collarbone and ended by his right nipple. His calloused fingers felt amazingly hot on the Mage's chest and Anders found himself following Nathaniel's finger along the scar. When the scars path ended, right by his nipple, Anders inhaled sharply as Nathaniel's hand lingered a second longer than necessary on the nub._

_"I – I will go and find you clean clothes," Nathaniel said hoarsely. "I will be back shortly. Bathe and we will continue to talk afterwards."_

_Anders nodded as the rogue, with one last lingering look, left the room._

_ ~ . ~_

_He'd missed the feel of water against his skin, the feel of dirt being washed away from his body and the way his hair felt when it was nice and clean. He's missed its warm, calming nature. The way water arched and cradled him in when he sat down in the tub. He missed the way it felt when he dunked his head underwater and tried to look out, the way the world distorted and changed without really changing. He'd missed being clean._

_But what he hadn't miss was what how the water made his scars itch and burn. He didn't miss the way the water couldn't scrap away the memories of everything that happened. It could wipe away the touch and feel of the Templar's gloved hands as they touched and defiled him. Those memories would away be with him._

_He began to shake as tears spilt from his face. he felt his throat close up as he tried to stop the memories from overtaking him. He couldn't think about it, not anymore. He was safe now, yes, safe. The Templars couldn't get to him, not anymore. _

_But his body wouldn't believe his mind and he shook and cried until a warmth pressed against him, soothing his aching soul. He knew it was a dream then because this had never happened. This warmth hadn't happened when he had bathed. Nathaniel had found him almost an hour later, fingers and toes wrinkled from the water, crying and whimpering from the memories. The warmth hadn't come... until now. _

_It made him feel better and so, he slipped into the fade and into more happy dreams knowing that the warmth would keep that bad dreams and memories away._

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: So, what i did was make a schedule and set a day for every story i have. This falls under Saturdays. So every Saturday expect at least one upload from me. ALSO, i apologize for the delay... i'm back! Yell at me for taking so long, someone!_**_  
><em>


	6. Chapter 6

_**Title: **Broken Beyond Repair  
><em>

_**Chapter:** 5_

**_Beta:_**_ None. All mistakes are my own._

* * *

><p>Anders woke to an empty, cold bed and shouting outside his door. He got up, groggily making his way out of bed and to the door. His hand was poised to reach for the door handle when the door opened and someone stepped inside. Still half asleep, Anders blinked to see who had entered his room, his body already tensing with fear. But soon enough, two incredibly hot arms wrapped themselves around him like a cocoon and had him feel as secure as his mother's womb. He leaned into the embrace, not really caring whom it was as long as they remained hot. He closed his eyes and crooned a soft thank you.<p>

"C'mon, mage, let's get you back your bed," a hoarse voice said softy into his ear.

"Don't leave me..." Anders begged into the shoulder that rested his head. The arms moved away from him for a moment, leaving Anders cold and alone once more. Panic began to race through his body until the arms took a hold of him again, lifting him and placing him on a soft surface. "My bed... Don't leave me..."

"Maker, your frail! I'll wake you up in time for breakfast, all right? Then we can go down and you can eat a big, beefy meal with us Wardens," the voice was saying as covers were placed over him and the warmth of a body cuddled him. "You're going to be one of us, I hope. We need more people like you, strong and... pretty. You are very pretty you know?"

"Mhm... tha... thanks..." Anders fell asleep after that, listening to the man's voice as it described what his life would be like as a Warden.

* * *

><p><em>His dreams weren't as pleasant as how he fell asleep. At first, when he awoke in the Fade, the same pestering dream started. A Templar was coming towards him, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he took in the scared mage. Anders cowered in the corner, watching as the Templar walked as slow as possible towards him, removing his gloves and plating on the way. If it wasn't for the runes and magic dispelling carvings in the walls, the Templar wouldn't have to get undressed, a fire bolt would be happy to do it for him.<em>

_But then, just as the Templar reached him, there was a whiplash sound followed by a wet cracking sound. Suddenly, the Templar fell forward and burst into tiny little pieces of stones. Anders looked down at the pieces, horrified. Who in the blazes was powerful enough to do that?_

_When a man stepped out from the shadows, Anders instinctively hid in the corner of his cell. But the man didn't look menacing, on the contrary the man looked sad and hurt as he approached Anders like one would approach a wounded animal. His hands outstretched in the universal sign of peace and with a calming look on his kind face. The man was handsome, that was enough to calm Anders down and stand up. _

_"It's okay, Anders, I'm here," the man said softly as he walked into the cell. "I'll always be here."_

* * *

><p><em>They were in a bedroom laced with golden curtains and colourful beads hanging from the ceiling. The walls were a rich crimson and the carpets on the floor a dark yellow with dark wood furniture and the smell of vanilla. The entire room looked worth more than Anders' life and yet he felt... like he belonged.<em>

_He was on a bed that felt made of silk and feathers; it was so soft that it felt like a cloud. He lay in the centre of the large bed, rose petals surrounded him and candles were lit along the walls. The room looked beyond romantic, it almost radiated love. _

_"What am i-" Anders began as he looked down at his half opened silk robe but a voice both interrupted and scared him._

_"Oh, wonderful! You're awake!" _

_The man, equally as undressed, came into the room and, stopping only to remove his robe, got on the bed. There was a brief pause before he found his lips being attacked by the man. He nipped and licked at his lower lip, asking for entrance that Anders just simply couldn't resist. Soon enough, the man was laying on top of him, his body creating wonderful friction against Anders' robed body under him. _

_"Mmm, don't ever stop, Nathaniel..." Anders moaned out as the man's lips left his lips in search of his nipples. Soon, his hands touched trailed downwards and heat began to pool in his stomach. "Yes... right there... _Nathaniel..."

* * *

><p>"Anders? Anders?" Nathaniel tried to shake the mage awake but stopped when Anders began to moan out his name. "What in the Maker... Anders? Wake up!"<p>

"Um... what?" Anders mumbled out as he was snapped out of the Fade. "Nathaniel? What are you-?"

"Get dressed, there is a big banquet going on downstairs for all the mages," Nathaniel said moving away from the mage. He looked over his shoulder and saw Anders hadn't moved. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

"Gimme a minute or two, please?" Anders asked timidly. Nathaniel looked at him, confused and worried but hide it under his gruff exterior. He pointed to the door and left the room.

He waited almost ten agonizing minutes where he could hear the mages laughing and enjoying themselves and smelt the food while unable to go and enjoy himself. He had to get Anders because if he didn't, the mage wouldn't show his face downstairs. Hell, he probably wouldn't even eat.

When the mage finally finished getting ready, Nathaniel was so impatient to eat that he almost fell down the stairs moments later when he took in Anders' clothing. He'd wondered when he was going to wear the robes he'd found him and how they would fit but... by the Maker! It took his breath away the way his arms still managed to remain muscular when the rest of him was so thin. The material clung to his chest almost like it was made for Anders and the sash that wrapped around his waist, gave Nathaniel visions of very naughty things.

He heard Anders cough and say something about being late but Nathaniel's eyes were immediately drawn to the mages face. He wore his hair down, the blond locks framing his face and accentuating his high cheekbones, bright caramel coloured eyes and full lips. It was all breath taking. Add in the kohl Nathaniel could see framing those eyes and the glittering earing he wore and the rogue felt his heart stop.

He was beautiful, Maker, was this man beautiful.

"You..." he swallowed thickly, looking away from a confused Anders. "You go on ahead, Anders, I forgot I had something to do."

"Oh, yeah?" the mage challenged, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Like what?"

"Um, secret Warden stuff," Nathaniel replied with a nod of his head. He tried to sneak a glance at the mage and came face to face with those eyes as Anders stepped closer to him and took his arm.

"It can wait," Anders told him. "I'm hungry and you promised you wouldn't leave me. Are you breaking your promise, _Nate_?"

The way Anders said Nate sent shivers down the rogues back and, rather reluctantly; he was taken all the way down to the mess hall where all the mages and staff was gathered. As they entered the room, First Enchanter Orsino and Nikolai raised their glasses at them in greetings.

Anders pulled him to the end of the table and grabbed as much food as he could. He served Nathaniel too, something that both surprised him and brought a smile to his lips. As he leaned over to place some potatoes in his plate, Nathaniel breathed in deeply, inhaling Anders sweet smell. Briefly, he wondered how his skin would taste before shaking his head and looking down at his food.

The mage had served him protein while he ate a rather vegetarian breakfast of mostly greens and fruits. Nathaniel must have looked confused because Anders leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I'm vegetarian, Nate, this is all I can eat from this table. Stop looking so constipated and enjoy your animal skin."

Nathaniel bit his lip to hold in a smile. He had to remember to tell Nikolai about this. He wondered how many more of the apprentices were vegetarian and how many were doing as Anders and eating what little they could.

* * *

><p>"Where were the Templars?" Anders asked as they walked out of the tower.<p>

Now that the Wardens had control of the Tower, the doors were opened and the mage's were free to roam the grounds. There were still rules and curfews but less strict so than before. As long as they came back and didn't hurt anyone, they could cross the river and go into town. It wasn't recommended to go anywhere without a guard since most people still considered mages evil beings. But so far there had been no accidents.

"That's the what I wanted to show you," Nathaniel said with a wide grin as they rounded the corner to the back of the tower. "Take a look for your self."

Templar gear was on the floor stacked on top of each other neatly. Anders' followed the path and, off by the cliff, he could see the faint outlines of men running between two points. Off to the side where the Templars had installed a small pool of sorts, men were diving in and out of the water.

"What are they?"

"They are exercising in the morning, eating slop three meals a day, cleaning the tower from head to toe, cataloguing every book in the library and, most of all, leaving you alone."

"Was this your idea?" Anders asked, smiling. "Its quite brilliant!"

"Nikolai wanted them to be dangled down from the cliffs and be forced to climb back up but that would be so messy and... I thought this would please you more. Seeing them... tired and hopeless."

"I love it," Anders said with what could only be described as joy on his face. He hadn't felt this much joy since ... Karl. It was nice to be happy again. He turned to Nathaniel, eyes meeting, and blushing, he looked away and at the exercising Templars. They deserved a harsher punishment for what they'd done but... this was fun to watch.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay double upload! hehe Nathaniel had been checking out some Anders... oh no! what's gonna happen next? Any suggestionsguesses?**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Title: **Broken Beyond Repair  
><em>

**_Beta:_**_ None. All mistakes are my own._

* * *

><p>It was a few days later when Nathaniel finally had the courage to sit Anders down and tell him how everything was going to work out. The mage listened intently, his eyes never leaving the rogue as he explained, with a rather surly face, that Nikolai intended him to become a Warden. Anders quite liked the idea but Nathaniel seemed keen to be a killjoy.<p>

"It is not as great of a task, being a Warden, as it is made out to be," Nathaniel told him. They were sitting together on Anders' bed, their knees touching a bit. Nathaniel looked down at their knees and supressed a smile.

Anders followed his look and tilted his head. "I think," Anders said, "you don't want me to be a Warden. Think I can't take playing with the big boys, Nate? I can, I can assure you!"

"I-Its not that!" Nathaniel denied, pulling his leg under him and turning to the mage. "I _know_ you are ready but... you don't know how much one gives up when becoming a Warden. It's not a gift, more of a curse with benefits. You'll understand once we are at the ritual."

"Ri-ritual? Like... blood magic?" Anders looked horrified and amused as he put on his most scared face, even adding a few trembles along. He wanted to know how far Nathaniel would go before touching him. He was testing the rogue's limit; a limit he hoped wasn't too far away.

"NO! I-"

"I know," Anders interrupted with a smirk. "I was joking. Relax, Nate, It was a joke. I know the Wardens don't use blood magic, unless they have to."

"Yes... well, as long as that's clear."

* * *

><p>The next day, nearly two months after being rescued by the Wardens from the Templar's malicious ways, Anders stepped out of the Tower and took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he'd been outside, let alone on such a beautiful day such as this. The sky was shinning bright overhead, the grass was as green as on the other side and the air smelt of freedom. Everything was just in the world.<p>

"Well, you look lively!" Nathaniel commented as they loaded up their things onto the boat that would take them across the lake. "Dare I ask why?"

"It's been nearly a year and a half since I've stepped on this here green grass," Anders replied with a wide smile. "I've been an unwilling hermit for longer that I ever wished to be. It feels nice to be free and dallying about."

"I'm glad, really, I am." Nikolai came up from behind them, clamping a meaty hand on both their shoulders. He gave them a dazzling smile that had a hint of amusement. "But if you would please dilly-dally once we are on the other side, safe from being thrown into the water by evil Templars, I would be most pleased."

They worked on putting everything inside the boat; Anders complained most of the way because his wounds 'hurt'. Nathaniel knew better, however, (having been told by the First Enchanter that the mage had been fully healed, physically at least) and had him working right along side him and the others.

It wasn't just the fact that Anders' presense was enough to calm him down and stopped him from getting his bow and arrow and slicing a few Templars who were smirking at them from a few ways away. No, the mage had a way of ostracising a conversation and being the centre of attention no matter what was going on. After a few moments with him, Nathaniel completely forgot everything from his meeting with Nikolai and concentrated solely on the way Anders' lips formed words.

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><p>By the time they were done loading up the small boats and crossing their equipment over the lake, it was dinnertime. They'd spend the entire day together, a fact that didn't escape Nathaniel as they made their way to the mess hall. Everyone was there, sitting on the large wooden tables and enjoying the food that came from who knows where. It was a wonder there was even food since Nathaniel never saw a kitchen or a pantry in the Tower plans.<p>

Anders sat next to him, on his left, and picked at his food as always. He had this annoying habit of bouncing his leg up and down on the pad of his foot. It annoyed Nathaniel beyond belief, seeing his leg bounce up and down from his peripheral vision. But today it felt especially annoying and before he could even think about it, he reached over and laid a hand on Anders' firm thigh. His fingers dug into Anders' robe and his thigh, catching his attention.

Anders arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He stopped his leg bouncing and, instead, moved his food around on his plate. Nathaniel stared at his long, thin fingers taking note of their sheer elegance and the way they wrapped around the spoon. He would never admit it to anyone but he had a thing for hands. They were his kink, even he felt weird thinking about it.

Nathaniel had a fascination with hands. All hands: small, large, hairy, boney, veiny, thick, thin, young or old. It mattered not. He loved hands; the rough texture or the smooth feel of them as they caressed him gave him endless pleasure. Hands were everywhere. Soft noble hands, rough fighter hands, heavily callouses soldier hands, soft silky healer hands.

Ooh and the fingers! The things fingers could do... It gave him goose bumps just thinking about it. Hands- and their fingers- were his obsession, his fetish.

But soft silky hands of the healer were breath taking. Nathaniel stared at his soft, thin hands. They stood out in his otherwise macho persona that he'd quickly adapted once he was healed. He took great care of them, Nathaniel saw, or perhaps his healing magic did that for him. They were big yet slender, the finger long and thin with short stubby nails that were somehow perfect. He had a mole on his right hand between his thumb and forefinger and another a few centimetres above that.

He'd seen them glow a blue tint, an almost heavenly hue, has he healed himself a few days after being found. It was strange for someone like Nathaniel to be attracted by something so menial and superfluous as hands but everyone had a kink and this was his, unfortunately.

But staring at the healer's hands whilst in public was not a good thing. Looking away sheepishly, he caught the eyes of Nikolai. A stern look and a small shake of his head from the Commander had Nathaniel looking down at his plate the rest of the meal.

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><p>Later that night as Nathaniel lay awake in bed, he though about Anders. He was beginning to think that he might, possibly, like him. But it was ridiculous, complete and utter rubbish because he'd saved the man from the Templars secret torture room. He was Anders' guardian not his ... whatever he wished to be. He was snapped out his thoughts by a small, timid knock on the door.<p>

"Can I come in?" Anders said opening the door a crack and slipping his head in. Nathaniel sat up in bed and nodded. The mage entered his room came to the side of Nathaniel's bed. "I can't sleep without my man in shinning grey armour there to protect me."

Nathaniel smiled. He moved over and motioned for Anders to get in. Surprised, Anders blinked a few moments before smiling wide and getting in. He snuggled up close to Nathaniel much to his chagrin and amusement. Anders laid his head on the rogue's chest, a hand coming up to touch the rogue's thin shirt at the abdomen.

Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat but he said nothing as he wrapped his arms around the mage's thin body and pulled the cover close as one would with their lover. He would enjoy tonight as much as he could before overanalysing and freaking out in the morning. He fell asleep to the gentle touch of Anders fingers making circles on his chest.

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><p><strong>I have to go to work in about an hour but I'll upload again later tonight. <strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Broken Beyond Repair

**Author Notes: **Really Long delay, I apologise. I changed bits of the Joining, sorry if that bothers anyone.

**Beta: **No beta. My mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.

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><p>Just because the Templars were no longer in charge didn't mean the nightmares stopped for Anders. They lessened, sure, but he could still feel their hands on him, their thrusting hips behind him, the metal fingers pushed into him when he didn't comply fast enough and the thick metal boots introduces to his chest when he didn't yell loud enough. He took pleasure in seeing them do manual labour whilst walking around the Tower like the freeman he was born to be. He took special pleasure in the fact that they ate and slept in the dirty, bloody dungeons that had been his home for nearly a year. He still coward at a mere glace from them, recognizing that, once the Wardens were needed somewhere else, the mages would be left once more in the hands of the Templars. And then not even the Maker herself would stop the Templars retaliation.<p>

Unlike the rest of them, however, Anders had a way out. He could join the Wardens and never be bothered again. He would truly be free then. It was with that mind-set that he arrived at the grand hall, ceremonial robes and all, to do the ritual to become a Warden. With an air of secrecy, Nikolai, Kind Alistair and Nathaniel stood together by a pedestal. Nathaniel smiled thinly clearly not happy with Anders' decision. Anders returned the smile and waited.

"This ritual used to be very… grim," Nikolai said shaking his head. "It would start out with a few blessed words, a scavenger hunt and then drinking blood of a darkspawn from a blessed chalice. Or at least that's how it was for us." He smiled at King Alistair. They shared a moment, their eyes meeting and bodies turned towards one another. If Anders didn't know better, he would think they were intimate. Which was only confirmed when, a rather pink-cheeked Nathaniel coughed loudly. Nikolai shook his head and turned back towards Anders. "Sorry."

"No problem," Anders replied. "King Alistair has rather dashing features and very beautiful eyes, if you don't mind my saying so." He winked and cleared his throat, avoiding Nathaniel's eyes.

"Continue, Nikolai," the King said firmly, taking a step to the side away from the Commander. "I have more important things to do."

"Such as?" the commander turned and waited, hands on his hips and eyebrow cocked. When the king didn't answer, he smirked and said, "I thought do." He took a deep breathe and continued on with the ceremony. "Okay, so I'm not one for drama –" King Alistair snorted beside him and earned an elbow to the ribs. "As I was saying, I'm not one for drama and so the hunt and ceremony stuff is gone now."

"We are in need of Wardens and we will not judge anyone for whom they are or what they were born as. The Maker cares not for gender so why should she care about magic. I, King Alistair, was once a wayward lad but, in the Wardens, I found myself. I am now… a-a King, obviously but also a man. Well, I was a man before but I-I didn't know what _being_ a man truly meant." The King blinked, unsure of his words and smiled shyly.

Nathaniel took a step forward, and said, "We are here to begin the joining. I will speak the words that have been said since the first. _Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you._"

He stepped back, putting a small vial on the pedestal. King Alistair stepped forward carrying a goblet and putting it next to the vial. Commander Nikolai stepped forward next, uncapping the vial and spilling its contents inside the goblet. He it down and looked at Anders.

"Step forth and take the test." He said as he stepped back. "If you survive, welcome to the Wardens. If not, I am sorry."

"From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden," Nathaniel said, looking pointedly at the goblet.

"So…" Anders said slowly. "I need to drink Darkpawn blood. That's it?" The men nodded in sync. Anders stepped forward, grabbing the chalice. "I better not wake up naked and tied to my bed…"

Nathaniel rushed forward the moment Anders took a drink from the chalice. He caught the mage just as he was about to fall to the ground. He checked his pulse and let out a sigh of relief. Anders had made it. Anders was a Grey Warden and Nathaniel couldn't be happier.


End file.
